


The Funeral of Tony Stark

by laurenherondale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Infinity War, Marvel - Freeform, Peter Parker - Freeform, mcu - Freeform, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 08:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenherondale/pseuds/laurenherondale
Summary: y’all I miss Tony and the little bitch isn’t even dead yetalso I cried writing this I’m sorry





	The Funeral of Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

> y’all I miss Tony and the little bitch isn’t even dead yet  
> also I cried writing this I’m sorry

“And now we will have a few words from Tony’s young friend, Peter Parker.”  
Peter gulped upon hearing his name, forcing down a shaky breath. Beside him, May squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, lightly kissing the top of his head. Peter reluctantly got to his feet and made his way up the aisle, standing up on the podium and taking out the sheet of paper from his jacket pocket.  
He looked out into the church. All the seats were crammed with people; most of them probably hadn’t even met Mr Stark in real life. Peter bowed his head over the paper, reading the words scrawled there by first Tony, then himself.  
Come on, Spider-Man.  
“Hello, everyone,” Peter said, his voice trembling. “I’m… I’m Peter. I was friends with Mr Stark and he… well, he left me a little letter that he wanted me to read today.”  
The crowd was silent. Peter began reading.  
“Good morning, afternoon or evening, everyone. I assume if you’re hearing this, I’m not here anymore. I’m giving this to the kid, because, well, I know he’ll do this exactly the way I want him to.”  
Peter paused, a lump forming in his throat.  
He kept going.  
“I suppose I just want to say a few words to some people, in case I didn’t get the chance while I was alive. No crying, please- Happy, if you’re there, get a grip.”  
This caused some laughter as Happy, seated in the front row, blew loudly into his eighteenth tissue of the morning.  
“I hope the music’s good,” Peter read. “And I swear to God, if I’m not buried in the most expensive coffin you could find I will come back as a ghost and haunt all of you forever.”  
More laughter. Peter fought back tears; he could practically hear Mr Stark’s voice as he read the words aloud…  
“Anyway, I’m babbling, as usual. Here’s to the few people who deserve it.”  
Peter entered a sort of trance as he read through the pages dedicated to the most special people in Tony’s life- Happy, Pepper, Rhodey. Rhodey’s was especially sad, as there was an empty seat receiving the words that Tony had intended his best friend to hear.  
Peter barely heard the paragraph Tony has written about him. He would read it later, at home when he was free to sob, but right now all he had to do was get to the end of the letter.  
“And finally,” Peter said, his hands shaking as he gripped the last sheet of paper. “A couple of words for my fellow Avengers.”  
The room was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.  
“To Mister Clint Barton, also known as Legolas,” Peter read. “Once all this is over, I hope you get to live the rest of your life in peace on that little farm of yours with your family. I should have taken a leaf out of your book, to be honest. You’re a good man, and I don’t hold anything against you, except for your new haircut.”  
Clint would have laughed if he was alive.  
“Thor, I must say, I never thought I’d have the pleasure of knowing a God, but I have and it’s certainly lived up to expectations. You’re a strong man and a good man, although I’m still trying to figure out that stupid trick with your hammer.”  
Peter could practically hear the hearty chuckle that would have come from Thor if he had been there, instead of aboard a burning ship down a river in Asgard.  
“To Natasha Romanoff, or as I first knew you as, Natalie Rushman,” Peter continued. “You are without a doubt the strongest woman I know, both physically and emotionally, and I admit that you could definitely kick my ass. I appreciate all the times you had my back, even when I was an asshole (can I say that in church?) and that I hope you get to enjoy the rest of your life without any more alien invasions and the like.”  
Natasha’s own funeral had been only the day before. Peter had only attended because he was sure Mr Stark would want him to.  
“Bruce, I know you never even wanted to be an Avenger, but I want you to know that I’m glad to have met you. You’re definitely smarter than me, and I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t listen to you when I should have. You deserve a life so peaceful and chilled out that you never even have to think about the Hulk again. I’ll miss you, buddy.”  
Maybe they would see each other, in whatever afterlife the pair of them had gone to.  
“And finally, Captain Steve Rogers,” Peter said, his voice a croaky whisper at this point. “I know we disagreed on a lot of things. Maybe on nearly all things. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t like you. You’re as brave and as righteous as they get, and I know that you’d sacrifice yourself for anyone. I’m sorry for a lot of things, Steve, but being your friend isn’t one of them. I hope that, by the end, you forgave me, too.”  
Also, your teeth are still too perfect and I still definitely get the urge to punch them.”  
The crowd laughed, but it was a sad laugh, because there was no Captain America to shine his perfect teeth anymore.  
“I’m glad to have been a part of the Avengers, no matter what the cost,” Peter said. “And I guess this is goodbye.”  
Goodbye.  
Peter slowly folded the paper.  
“Thank you, Mr Parker,” the priest said, smiling a little. Peter was about to head back to his seat, but then faltered slightly.  
“Can I just…” he choked a little on tears, stopped, tried again. “Can I just say something myself real quick?”  
“Of course,” the priest said, nodding his head. Peter gripped the little microphone, willing his hands to stop shaking.  
“My mom and dad died when I was a little kid,” Peter said quietly. “My aunt May raised me, and she’s been the best mom I could have ever asked for.”  
In the crowd, May wiped her eyes and smiled at her nephew.  
Peter cleared his throat. “But it wasn’t until I met Mr Stark that I- that I-”  
Come on, Spider-Man.  
“I kinda forgot what it was like to have a dad, but what Mr Stark was to me sure felt like that,” Peter said quickly. “He was always there for me, and he always believed in me. No matter what. And I’m… I’m gonna miss him. A lot.”  
There were full on tears running down Peter’s cheeks now, but he was determined to finish.  
Come on, Spider-Man.  
“So I just wanna say thank you, Mr Stark,” Peter finally got out. “Thank you.”


End file.
